


Living Dead Alternate Chapter-Who Am I Without You?

by JennFoozie4bz



Series: Living Dead Inspired One Shots [2]
Category: Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Death, Explicit Sexual Content, Fanfiction, Hurt/Comfort, Love, M/M, Male Slash, Male on male sex, One Shot, PWP, Ryden, Smut, alternate chapter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-02-09
Updated: 2018-02-09
Packaged: 2019-03-16 02:03:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13626243
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/JennFoozie4bz/pseuds/JennFoozie4bz
Summary: Ryan isn’t convinced this man is his fiancé-returned from the dead. Will he get his proof of who this being really is?Inspired by Living Dead written by YoungBloodSins





	Living Dead Alternate Chapter-Who Am I Without You?

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Denise and Carrie](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=Denise+and+Carrie).
  * Inspired by [Living Dead](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13025874) by [YoungBloodSins](https://archiveofourown.org/users/YoungBloodSins/pseuds/YoungBloodSins). 



Walking through the front door brought a sense of relief, but lately anxiety made its presence known too. What used to be Ryan’s refuge, a sanctuary of sorts, does not have the calming effect as it had before. It’s because of the recent turn of events. It’s everything that Brendon had done, coming back from the dead, defied nature itself.

  
“I get so exhausted at night, Ry. I just want food and sleep.”

  
They had spent the day looking for clues. Visiting odd spots of “that day” to trigger memories in Brendon or visions for Spencer. The “field trip” to the mall was unnerving. Ryan’s senses were on high alert, his subconscious already knowing that something devastating had occurred there. He was relieved that Jon suggested they call it a day when a child’s popping balloon sent Ryan into a panic attack. Why is he being so jumpy and anxious? Shouldn’t Brendon be the one to experience all this nervousness? But it was the opposite effect. He pointed to rental spaces that were empty, naming the stores that were there before. For Brendon, it was just a few days earlier. For the others, recalling what was present in the mall fives years ago was not an simple task at all.

  
Then, the temporary plaque in center court. The mayor of the city insisted that something needed to be set up to honor the victims. It was a simple bronzed metal plaque, cemented on the floor along the other sandy-beige tiles in the center of the mall. The contrast of the colors made its presence known. It is titled “In Remembrance,” with the date and a list of names. The victims who were shot that day. Brendon had kneeled and touched his name, probably thinking that this is all just a bad dream and feeling the cold metal under his fingertips would wake him. Ryan has asked to be awoken from this nightmare for five years.

  
“Ryan, I’m hungry. Heating up this leftover pizza. How old is this anyway?” Ryan walks over to the couch and sits at the end that gives a glimpse into the kitchen. Out of the corner of his eye, Ryan sees the shrug of his shoulders and the back of the baseball style tee shirt Brendon is wearing. It was one of the few that Ryan couldn’t get rid of. It was Brendon’s favorite Journey shirt. Navy blue sleeves with the Frontiers album cover. He briefly thinks of the week after Brendon’s death, how he wore that shirt and sat in this very spot and did not move until Jon and Spencer came to pick him up for the funeral.

  
Walking towards the microwave carrying the pizza box in his hands, Brendon starts to rummage for plates. He hears cabinets opening, closing; dishes clinking and the fridge open and close. Underneath all the cacophony of the kitchen, Ryan can hear Brendon humming a song. His song, “First Try,” which he wrote when they were younger, and for Ryan. He had been tweaking it for the mall show. Ryan feels his heart stop for half a beat. The pain flashes a warning in his chest for a brief second, reminding him that it can, and will return at any moment. Don’t get too comfortable.

  
“Ryan? Did you hear me? Ry!” Brendon’s questions forced Ryan back to reality, whipping his neck to the side, and his eyes locking onto Brendon’s. Ryan hadn’t realized he was daydreaming, staring at the mantle of the fireplace. Brendon walks over to the mantle, chuckling at a few of the framed photos, and touching them with his finger. “Oh man! It’s my Jimmy Neutron look when we went hiking. I remember that day. It was so windy. You were mad at me earlier that morning. Do you remember?” Ryan remembers that day very clearly, but doesn’t say a word. He wants to hear his response. What this Brendon in his living room has to say about that day.

  
“We barely got engaged. What, maybe a month? You were ready to go to Vegas that weekend, saying we could be married by Elvis in less than an hour. I told you I wanted to wait. My mother would have killed us both if we had eloped without her getting a say in the boutonnières or cake. She may not have agreed with my life choices, but she was happy that I found you. She really loved you. Still loves you.” He picks up the photo of Ryan and sits next to him on the couch. “Took me forever to get you to smile for this picture. It may be one of the best ones I took of you. It has that au natural look. Could only get more natural unless you were naked. Wait, we did get naked! Ha! Made you smile again.” He scoots closer to Ryan along the couch. Ryan stiffens in his spine a bit, but flexes his hands to try to stay relaxed, his smile quickly fading. “Do you remember what I told you? I believe it was before the - we got naked - part. I told you that it didn’t matter if we got married that next day, that next week, or next month. I was going to love you as much in a year as I did in that very second.”

  
Ryan had been waiting with abated breath. He remembers that exact moment and when they made love outdoors afterward. They did not have a blanket with them, so Brendon bitched about his ass itching during the drive back home. He had no complaints before that. Especially not when Ryan had lifted Brendon’s left leg onto his shoulder; just so that he could hit his prostate, watch his eyes roll back in his head, and that ‘O’ form on his lips.

  
Tears slip out of Ryan’s eyes and slowly roll down his cheeks. How could this Brendon know? He never told anyone of their fight or their makeup sex right afterward. Not even Spencer. So this was it. This was something that only his Brendon, his fiancé would know. Hadn’t he passed the test? But the fear lodged in Ryan’s heart did not subside or fade.

  
Brendon cupped Ryan’s face with both of his hands, brushing the tears away with his thumbs. They sat silent a few moments, staring at each other. Ryan quietly crying and Brendon smiling at him, staring at his amber eyes and lips. Brendon then slowly starts to lean into him, just staring at Ryan’s soft pink mouth. Even before he can register what he is doing, Ryan lifts a hand to stop the action. Placing his hand on Brendon’s chest, while he leans back.

“No. Brendon. I-I can’t. I can’t-“ And his tears are free flowing. Just tiny sobs bellowing up from his chest while he is shaking his head side to side.

  
“Oh, uh. I see. Um. I’ll get some of my clothes and call Spencer to come get me. I, uh. Yeah.” Brendon wipes a tear from his own cheek before Ryan realizes what he is saying. He stands up suddenly and is walking down the hallway of their small apartment to their bedroom.

  
This can’t be happening. He can’t be losing him again.

  
“Brendon! No! Wait!” Ryan jumps up from the couch and is running down the hallway after him. After the love of his life that has come back from death. What has he done? He reaches Brendon’s arm and pulls it back to make him turn to look at him.

“No. That’s not what I meant. I can’t-I can’t lose you again. We don’t know how long we have. I begged for this, believe me. I have wished and hoped and prayed for you to come back. I’m afraid, no, I’m terrified you’ll be taken away from me again. And I swear to God, when you die-; when you left, I wanted nothing more than to be buried in that cemented crypt with you. To lay right next to you in that fucking coffin because when you left, I died too. For five years I’ve existed without my heart, without my soul, because you have them. I can’t breath and there is this...hole in my chest. And it just aches all the damn time. You took them, Brendon. You are my life. My sun, my moon, my whole fucking universe. If you leave me again-“

  
Brendon then places a hand on the back of Ryan’s neck and pulls him into the kiss. Ryan doesn’t stop him this time, and he kisses him back just as fervently. Brendon pulls back to look in his honeyed eyes.

  
“Ryan, please believe me when I tell you that I’m sorry. I know. I’m apologizing for something I had no control over; but I would never want you in that kind of pain. I would never, ever intentionally abandon you.” Brendon places both of his hands on each side of Ryan’s face. He pulls him close and offers little pecks on his lips at first, then he slowly deepens the kiss. Ryan has his eyes closed, savoring Brendon’s kisses, while beads of tears are escaping from his eyelashes. Brendon lets the tears christen his hands and down his wrists.

  
Brendon then starts with Ryan’s jaw and works his way down his neck, leaving a trail of nibbles and nips in his wake. When he reaches Ryan’s collarbone, he inhales deep at the base of his neck, filling his senses with musk, weed, and sweat. Ryan let’s out a tiny whimper while he lolls his head back, giving Brendon more access. Brendon is taking his time, kissing each side of Ryan’s neck to his earlobes, making a pattern of a V along Ryan’s collar. He has missed this. The gentle but firm touch of Brendon’s hands and the way he guides Ryan’s neck from side to side, while he outlines every muscle and curve with small licks of his tongue and intermittent kisses.

  
Brendon feels the sway in Ryan’s stance, so he pulls him closer with one arm while he’s walking backwards into their bedroom. The bed is right around the corner from the door, so they don’t have too far to travel before the back of his knees hit it. Ryan is then laying on top of him, but Brendon then rolls him over gently. The tension between them had harbored and dulled their emotions since they had both walked through the apartment door the night Brendon came back. Usually it was near impossible for them to keep their hands off of each other, but Ryan still had reservations. Of course Brendon hadn’t want to leave, for God’s sake. He didn’t walk out the door that afternoon thinking this would be a good day to die. But the ache of loneliness and heartbreak keeps rearing it’s ugly head. Just reminding Ryan that happiness and love are not compatible in his life.

  
“Ryan.” Brendon had slid his hands underneath Ryan’s V neck tee shirt and was tugging it up towards his head. Brendon’s straddling him on the edge of the bed, kissing his neck, and now his exposed chest. He knows Brendon is turned on, he can feel his hardness against his leg and hip when he leans over to kiss him. He still isn’t feeling secure about having sex; but oh God, he has missed his touch, his scent, his mouth on his body. He feels intoxicated, but coherent. Brendon always had that affect on him. He would always bring him to the brink of insanity with pleasure using his touch and kisses, then would pause to look at him; smile, and then begin the marauding again. He really wished these flashes of reality would stop intruding into his subconscious, because nothing on this God forsaken earth felt as good as this.

  
Ryan pushes Brendon back a little while he’s sitting up on his elbows. He sidles out from underneath Brendon, then sits up. He then lifts the hem of Brendon’s tee shirt til it’s pulled up over his arms and head. Ryan then comes face to face with Brendon’s scar. On his right pectoral muscle, just below his nipple, there is a faded, circular indention in Brendon’s otherwise smooth skin. He looks into Brendon’s eyes to ask permission while bringing up his left hand up to touch it. It’s roughly the same size as his fingertip. How could something this small have caused so much chaos, heart ache, and destruction in so many lives? The sudden images of Brendon, pale-grey and stiff, laying underneath a white sheet on the sterile, steel slab brought a fresh onslaught of tears. The sheet had been pulled down moments before so his mother and father could officially identify the body. Ryan had to see him for himself. Maybe it was shock, but he couldn’t wrap his mind around the thought that Brendon was dead. He would never again walk through the door performing his cheesy impersonation of Ricky Ricardo’s, “Lucy! I’m home!”

  
Ryan then snaked his hand around to Brendon’s back, and down. Just a few inches above his waist to feel the slightly bigger scar of the exit wound.

  
“Do you remember anything about being shot?” Ryan asked in a whisper. He still hadn’t looked into Brendon’s eyes again. He was still staring at the scar from the bullet wound on his chest. This is his proof. This happened. Brendon was shot and killed by an assault rifle, and yet; here he is.

  
“No. And to tell you the truth, I really don’t try to think about it. I just noticed the scar this morning in the shower. I do want to remember, I don’t know why. Maybe it would make these missing five years more real to me. And also to help me remember where I’ve been.” Brendon answers nonchalantly.

  
“The medical examiner said-um, the autopsy came back — and said that your right lung was pierced — and-uh, the bullet barely missed your kidney. You — didn’t suffer long.” A phrase that was repeated over and over monotonously to others, and himself. But once it’s said to Brendon; Ryan places both hands on his face, bends his head to his knees, and starts weeping.

  
“Hey. Hey, Ry. Ssh. It’s okay. I’m here.” Brendon immediately wraps his arms around Ryan and pulls him into his chest, gently rocking him back and forth, placing kisses on top of his head. Ryan can hear Brendon’s heart beating, and that sound alone is what comforts him.

  
Brendon then places his hand underneath Ryan’s chin and lifts his head to look at him. Brendon slowly bends forward, meticulously and cautiously kisses both tracks of tears that are streaming down Ryan’s face.

“No more-; I’m here now.” Brendon says in a hushed tone. Their mouths meet yet again. Ryan can taste the saltiness of his tears, while his nostrils are permeated with the scent of coconut oil and musk. Ryan wraps his arms over Brendon’s shoulders and sits up on his knees for better access to his mouth. It’s then that he feels the large, mound of jagged scar tissue on the top of Brendon’s right shoulder underneath his hand.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to Denise and Carrie for your beta reads, editing suggestions, encouragement, expertise, long talks, and friendship. <3
> 
> Comments and Kudos appreciated.  
> Thank you for reading my work!


End file.
